


Hat Trick

by reitoei



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Infidelity, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reitoei/pseuds/reitoei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Poe has drunken sex with Kylo Ren, star player of the rival soccer team. (And one time they're both sober.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about soccer, American colleges, or American college parties, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This fic is pure self-indulgence.  
> Warnings: Drunken sex and whatever dubiousness of consent that goes along with that.
> 
> Summary: Poe is trying to stay out of trouble in his last year captaining the Resistance Bombers, but trouble finds him anyway in the form of Kylo Ren, a tall and broody rival player who happens to have moved in next door to him.

The first time Poe sees Kylo Ren on the field he’s stunned into silence. He’s tall, gangly, with all the awkward lankiness of a still-growing teenager, but he doesn’t fumble his footwork once. He seems to know where the ball is without even looking, and _god_ can he run. Poe’s just recruited two hotshots to the team himself — an exuberant freshman who’s pretty damn good, and a junior girl who’s frankly got the potential to go pro— but there’s something undeniably eye-catching about watching this pasty-faced kid with ridiculous hair tearing up the field in drills. It’s just too bad he’s wearing Stormtrooper colours.

“You’re getting drool on your jersey,” says Jess from his left. “Quit ogling the competition.”

“I’m not ogling,” Poe says absently, his eyes fixed on the distant figure. “I’m sizing up.”

Jess snorts. “Sure. That’s Kylo Ren, by the way. His dad’s the director of the Republic’s sports program. You know, just in case you need an opener when you chat him up at the party tonight. Maybe don’t go with the dad angle, though — I hear he’s sensitive about it.”

“No one’s chatting anyone up,” Poe protests feebly. He tears his eyes away from Kylo as he wends his way off the field between his teammates. He’s gotta be a freshman, because Poe’s never seen him before. That’s reason enough to keep away. He doesn’t date freshmen, especially not ones on opposing teams. That’s just asking for trouble. “How come nobody’s talking to him?”

“I don’t think they like him much,” says Jess. “One of my friends at the Republic says he’s a bit of a whiner. He flunked out of the Republic and I heard he got a special scholarship for the First Order. It’s kind of bullshit, in my opinion — you fail your classes, too bad, you don’t get another chance.”

Poe makes a face. “Yeah, I know all about your three strikes policy. You’ll make a great politician some day.”

“Damn right.” Jess bumps his shoulder. “Well, I’m gonna go put the fear of God into the freshman recruits. Have fun staring at gloom-and-doom over there.”

“Ugh,” Poe says, “the recruits. I should come with you.”

He peels himself off the bench, his muscles protesting. He’s been running drills all morning with the new kids, taking advantage of the fact that the field isn’t fully booked up for the season yet, and now he regrets not being more rigorous with his summer training schedule.

“Sweating off that summer tan, huh?” Snap jostles him as they approach. “I like your picks, they’re looking good. That girl though, do you think she’s up for it?”

“She’s doing better than your buddy Ello in the pre-season elimination,” says Jess, rolling her eyes.

“I think we can all agree that gender-segregated sports are a relic of the past.” Poe raises his hands to quiet them both. It’s a longstanding argument between their assistant coach and Poe’s vice captain, who’s insinuated more than once that Jess went for the position of coach because she couldn’t cut it in the league. Poe doesn’t blame her, though. Who wants to deal with all the pressure of being the first woman on a historically male team? Rey’s already had to field a whole lot of crap for not joining the inter-varsity women’s team and she’s not even officially in. “Trust me, Snap. Rey’s up for it. Just watch her in scrimmage.”

Snap shrugs and gives it up. For all his bluster he trusts Poe’s opinion, which is why Poe picked him for vice — he’s a bit of a knucklehead, but he’s got a sharp eye for talent and he’s steadfast. “I’ll keep an eye on her, cap’n.”

 

“Did you see that?” Rey crows, pumping her fists in the air. “Right past Blue defence… wham! Just like you said to do, Poe!”

She mimics her last goal with a little dance. Poe grins up at her. “Good job, newbie. Now just bring those moves to the game.”

“Yeah!” She strips off her jersey. “You coming to the party tonight? I don’t really know anyone, I was hoping you could show me around.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Poe says. Their division of NAIA encourages friendly relations between teams. Although it sometimes turns out badly, being as competitive as they are, the first party of the year is always pretty wild. Poe’s been going for the last four years and he has plenty of fond memories — awkward grinding on the dance floor, slamming back way too many Jägerbombs and waking up mostly naked in someone’s car… and that one particularly memorable year when Snap puked on some girl’s shoes and Poe had to drag him home and nurse him back from certain liver failure. Okay, so maybe they’re not-so-fond memories — but he feels obligated to go this year, being that it’s the last year of his captaincy. At the very least so that he can keep an eye on the new recruits, which he realizes is depressingly mature for a guy in his twenties. “You’ve met Finn, right?”

“The guy who wears the varsity football jacket? Yeah, I’ve met him.” She raises her eyebrows, surprisingly judgemental for an eighteen year old. “Why?”

Poe winces. The football jacket is actually his, courtesy of last year’s kickoff party when he spilled a truly unfortunate amount of beer on Finn’s white bomber jacket. But honestly, who wears white to a party, no matter how good it looks? “I like to encourage the new kids to hang out together, bond, get drunk. You know. Nothing cements a team like coming to practice collectively hungover. You want to ride with us to the party?”

“I have a car,” Rey says. She scrunches up her face. “Sure, though, I guess. I’ll meet you at the Antilles Library?”

“I can pick you up from your place,” Poe offers. She’s gotta live close to campus because he’s seen her bike to class. But she shakes her head.

“I’ll come to the library.” She shrugs on her coat. “See you at seven?”

“Gotcha.” Poe salutes.

 

Finn disappears as soon as they arrive at the party, so Poe herds Rey over to the entertainment room where there’s a couple of couches and a foosball table and, best of all, teammates. The rest of the place is lousy with First Order kids, he notes, eying them. It’s early yet, though.

“Poe, my man!” Finn reappears as Poe grabs a seat and Rey inserts herself into the game of poker at the next table. “I’ve got your first drink of the night.”

“Thanks buddy, but I’m your DD, remember?” Poe moves over to make space for Finn, who squeezes himself between Poe’s thighs and the arm of the couch. He’s warm along the length of Poe’s leg. He shrugs and puts the cup on the table.

“Crash on Rey’s couch with me! She offered. She lives like, five minutes away.”

“I thought she lived near campus,” Poe says.

“Nah dude, she rides her bike all the way there every day. She’s terrifying. Why would you do that to yourself?” Finn downs half his beer in one go. “ _And_ she goes to extra practice!”

Poe elbows him. “You should go to extra practice as well. That’s probably why she’s the fastest of you lot.”

“Yeah.” Finn casts a lingering glance over at Rey, where she’s raking in the dining hall tickets. “I gotta keep up.”

 

So maybe encouraging Rey to hang out with Finn wasn’t such a great idea. They hit it off right away and Finn keeps bringing her drinks and it’s not like Poe has a _crush_ or anything, but he’s been into Finn pretty much since they met the year before. He was the one who encouraged Finn to switch colleges and promised him a spot on the team. Finn is unfailingly cheerful, cute and sweet, and Poe kind of wants to take him home and do bad things to him. Now that Finn’s officially enrolled in the Resistance he’d been hoping to make a move, maybe actually take him on a date like he hasn’t done for anyone since high school prom.

The way he’s hanging off Rey’s every word, though — Poe knows it’d be kind of a dick move to get in the way of that. It’d been a nice fantasy while it lasted.

He sighs and stares into his cup of half-drunk watery beer.

The party’s good otherwise; the Association splurged on a DJ who doesn’t suck and nobody’s decided to shut down the underage drinking yet. Snap is playing beer pong in the basement because he’s way too competitive, and Jess hasn’t shown up — but Poe did spot tall, dark and awkward-looking Kylo Ren hanging out in a corner on his way to the dry bar. There’s even a bit of dancing, as if this is a real party. Poe considers his options — watch Rey and Finn play foosball and flirt, or take his chances at the snack table and check out the scrimmage in the yard?

Finn yelps in victory and Rey reaches over to smack his arm for cheating, and Poe stands up abruptly. “See you kids later!” He waves jauntily. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t on that table.”

“That doesn’t rule out much,” says Finn with a cocky grin as he leaves.

 

The snack table is haunted. Kylo Ren looms in the background, eyes fixed on some point beyond the crowd, a scowl on his face as he slowly eats munchie mix. Poe gives him a wary look and piles up appies on a paper plate.

“You okay?” he asks, balancing the plate on one hand so he can carry his beer in the other. Kylo looks surprised to be addressed.

“Fine,” he says shortly.

“It’s just that this is a party,” Poe says, “and you look a lot like you’re not partying.”

“Leave me alone,” Kylo snaps. Poe raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, pal.”

 

Two drinks in Poe manages to round up some of his teammates for a game of Red VS Blue on the basketball court outside; they’re soon joined by a gaggle of assorted others, some of the less confrontational of the First Order team and a few Republic kids who want to join in. Poe leaves when it starts to get crowded, deciding he’d better check in on the newbies. There are seven of them all-told, and although he’s pretty sure which ones coach is going to cut and which she’s going to keep it’s his job to be impartial, encourage them all equally. Which includes bringing them these cute virgin drinks the dry bar is serving.

This, of course, turns out to be a mistake.

Poe ends up an unexpected four beers deep when he discovers that everyone except Rey and Finn and a handful of people he mostly doesn’t know have abandoned the entertainment room. As a coping mechanism for watching Finn shamelessly charm his way into Rey’s heart, he convinces himself each subsequent drink is a fantastic idea — not difficult when Rey keeps shooting him sympathetic looks, like she’s caught on, but doesn’t stop herself from flirting back. Damn freshmen, he thinks, tossing back the dregs of his cup.

When he gets back from the bathroom — the need to piss every five minutes is incipient if he keeps on, he knows, since the first one is the ultimate icebreaker — he finds, to his horror, that they’ve progressed to an intimate chat on one end of the couch. Rey’s legs are drawn up in front of her and Finn has one arm over the back of the couch, his hand dangling next to her shoulder. Her eyes are a little glassy from whatever she’s been drinking. She’s nodding and dimpling at Finn, oblivious to the kid leaning against the arm of the couch who almost elbows her in the head.

Poe goes to get another drink.

 

 _I am so drunk_ , Poe tells himself, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle in front of him. It’s past the time he’d planned to leave by. He’s been thinking about practice the next day with a sort of distant concern. He probably shouldn’t have tried to play beer pong with Snap, who always beats his ass, and he certainly shouldn’t have tried to find Finn to ask him if he wanted to head out.

He peeks back around the corner. Rey has her hands down Finn’s pants now, and a gleeful look in her eye. He can’t really fault her for that. Finn probably has a nice dick, Poe thinks mournfully as he stumbles outside onto the balcony. He’s not quite falling down drunk yet, but neither has anyone tried to entice him into doing shots, which is usually how the evening goes. Maybe if he calls a cab soon he can avoid embarrassing himself this year.

The party’s not quite winding down, but people are starting to peel off to other, more rowdy arrangements. The balcony is quiet, lit up by little twinkling lights and the glow from inside. Poe’s gaze lands on a tall, slim figure in the corner of the balcony, almost camouflaged by the dark.

“Heyy,” he says, slumping down on the railing next to them. “You’re Kylo Ren! Jess told me your name.”

“And you’re drunk.” Kylo flicks a dismissive glance over at him. He’s got his elbows propped up on the balcony and a drink in one hand.

“That’s not my name,” Poe says, slinging an arm over Kylo’s shoulder. He’s a nice-looking guy, for someone whose wardrobe apparently includes a black turtleneck. “I’m Poe Dameron, captain of the — “

“Captain of the Resistance Bombers I know.” Kylo tries to eel out from under his arm. Poe lets him go, mimicking his pose. The basketball court has been abandoned. There’s a couple making out in the other corner of the balcony, but otherwise they’re alone.

Up close Kylo has long, dark lashes and a soft mouth, and he holds himself in a more self-assured way than on the soccer field. Poe finds himself looking with intent at that mouth as he takes a drink and licks his lips.

“I can’t believe you stuck around at a party you seem so bummed out by,” says Poe.

“I’m waiting for my ride.” Kylo’s mouth twists up into a frown.

“Huh.” Poe stares out across the grass. The night’s clear, for once, and it’s cold but autumn hasn’t really set in yet. He’s not uncomfortable in his shirtsleeves. He drinks the rest of his beer, feeling a little more pleasantly buzzed now that he’s got some fresh air. “You got a cigarette?”

“You smoke?” Kylo pulls out a pack from his pocket. He hands one over and offers a lighter. Poe leans in instead of taking it, and Kylo flicks the wheel with his thumb, sparking the tiny flame. His hands are big, long-fingered and broad. His pale skin is dotted with dark freckles. Poe looks up at him involuntarily, and his breath catches as he pulls away. Kylo’s eyes are dark and intense, fixed on his face.

He takes a long drag to disguise his suddenly fast-beating heart. “Only when I’m being a maudlin drunk,” he says.

Kylo snorts. “What’ve you got to be maudlin about?”

“Just dumb stuff,” Poe admits with a sigh. He breathes the smoke out his nose and savours the rich taste. Kylo’s brand is expensive — it’s nice. He usually smokes the cheap stuff, which is only passable when he’s drunk and sad anyway. “My newbies are making bad choices, makes me nostalgic for the good old days when I could actually get laid.”

Kylo looks over at him and his eyes flick up and down. Poe wonders for a second if he's is checking him out, but dismisses _that_ as wishful thinking. “Great hair, captain of the soccer team — I can’t imagine why they aren’t falling all over themselves to get at you.”

“Thanks, yeah.” Poe laughs. “No, it’s just life getting in the way. And I can’t be bothered to go out to clubs and pick up anymore, you know? All the guys are so fucking shallow, it’s demoralizing.”

Kylo’s quiet for a beat, and then he says, “You’re gay?”

Ah, shit, Poe thinks. Sometimes he doesn’t know when to shut up.

Sure, their city is fairly open-minded, but he’s not out to everyone; it’s just better to keep quiet, especially when he’s pretty much grown up in the locker room. Guys get a little cagey if they know, even when they’ve been on the same team for years — he’s had some less than pleasant experiences. Still he knows better than to try to play it off. That one goes over _less_ well, for some reason.

“Yeah, uh,” he fumbles. “I’m keeping it on the down-low, though. If you could just… not mention it to anyone, I’d appreciate it.”

“Who would I tell?” Kylo snorts. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but even my boyfriend isn’t that interested in hanging around me. Your secret’s safe, don’t worry.”

“Your boyfriend?” Poe gapes at him. “Way to fucking hide the lead. He’s the one who ditched you?”

“The one and only.” Kylo finishes his drink and balances the cup on the railing.

“What a piece of work.” Poe’s had his share of casual encounters who turned out to be assholes, but at least he’s never had a serious partner up and dump him at a party to — “What’s he doing, anyway?”

“Chatting up some busty blonde,” Kylo says miserably. “Phasma, probably. He’s always had a thing for her. Good thing she wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole, or else he’d’ve dumped me a year ago.”

“Why are you with someone who treats you like crap?” Poe stubs out the burned-down butt of his cigarette and drops it in his half-finished beer.

Kylo shrugs. “He’s not all bad. Look, I don’t know why I’m telling you this anyway. You don’t care.”

“Sure I do,” says Poe, nudging Kylo with his shoulder. “I think everyone should live their life for themselves. Don’t let some jerk keep you from doing the stuff you want — like leaving the party.”

“Well, that’s a nice sentiment.” He falls silent, shoulders hunched, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Poe regrets prying.

“Hey,” Kylo says suddenly, straightening. He turns his body to block out the fairy lights behind them, looming above Poe. It’s kind of hot, how tall he is. “You wanna go somewhere warmer?”

Poe lifts both his eyebrows. “So you _were_ checking me out.” He doesn’t want to admit how quickly anticipation settles in the pit of his stomach, burning hot and making his head spin a bit. Or maybe he’s more drunk than he thinks he is.

“You’re hotter than like, ninety percent of the people here,” Kylo scoffs. “Everyone with eyes was checking you out in there. Don’t let it go to your head. I just want to get another drink.”

“Sure.” Poe grins. “My treat.”

“They’re free, dumbass.”

Poe follows him down into the basement where most of the action is; a rousing game of pool, awful dance music coming out of someone’s tinny speakers, and an army of red solo cups scattered across the plastic folding table among half-empty beer cans and cardboard boxes. Poe spots the community centre coordinator among a gaggle of people playing honest-to-god darts, and at least three kids he knows are under twenty-one, but what the hell, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done his fair share of drinking in the early days of college.

Kylo roots through the boxes, hunting for an unopened beer can.

“Try the keg,” Poe suggests, pointing to the sink where it’s balanced on the edge of the counter. He jostles it gently; still a bit left, though probably flat and warm by now. The wonders of party beer, honestly. Kylo makes a face.

“There’s a pub down the block. Come on.”

“What about your boyfriend?” Poe asks.

“What about him?” Kylo shrugs. “Fuck it. Thirty bucks in cab fare is worth not having to listen to him bitch about my attitude all the way home.”

“Wow.” Poe smirks and pats him on the shoulder. “You _are_ drunk, huh? I wondered.”

“Maybe a little,” Kylo admits.

 

Kylo is definitely not a freshman — or else he’s got a pretty good fake ID. Poe isn’t sure if he should ask. They order a couple of less shitty beers and Poe pays for them as promised, which he supposes makes it kind of like an impromptu date. Which he’s having with a member of their rival team, who also happens to be someone else’s boyfriend. Boy, he’s having a good day. He gulps his beer and tries to ignore the facts nagging at him.

“You’re not underage, right?”

Kylo shoots him a dark look over the top of his glass. “No.”

Thank god. Which begs the question, however — “How come I’ve never seen you before, if you’re not a freshman?” He leans forward. “On the field, I mean.”

“I grew my hair out,” Kylo says.

Poe rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. Also I transferred. I was short and skinny with a buzz cut when I played for the Republic.”

“That must’ve been years ago, then,” Poe says, eying Kylo’s almost shoulder length hair now.

“Yeah.” His eyes cut away to the bar behind Poe. “I took a break from soccer. Hey, I gotta take a piss. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Poe watches him leave. He’s got an athlete’s typically great ass, round and firm under his black jeans, and a shoulder to hip ratio that’s frankly mouthwatering. Poe can’t decide whether he wants to pin Kylo down or vice versa. Neither thought it helping his libido, which is suddenly getting the memo that he hasn’t been laid in six months.

He gives it two minutes, then he abandons their beers at the table and follows Kylo to the bathroom.

 

“What the fuck?” Kylo almost leaps out of his skin when Poe all but pounces on him on his way out and herds him back into the bathroom. “This is a public washroom — “

“Live dangerously,” says Poe, closing the door behind them. He drags Kylo into a stall and locks it. Kylo looks stunned even as Poe drops to his knees and fumbles with the button of his pants.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “are you really gonna — right here?”

“Yeah, god, of _course_ I am,” Poe groans as he pulls down Kylo’s briefs. “If I’d known what you’re packing I would’ve dragged you in here a lot sooner.”

What he’s packing is _a lot_. Poe licks his lips in anticipation and Kylo makes a strangled noise and thumps his head back against the wall of the stall. It’s been a while since he really went down on anyone and at first it’s sloppy and kind of awkward, except that Kylo is so obviously enthusiastic and vocal for someone getting a trashy blow job in a bar bathroom. He’s trying to hold back, which Poe appreciates, his hands clenching uselessly against the wall. Poe has his hips pinned as he licks around the base of his cock, slowly drags his tongue up the shaft, savouring the feel of it, how his tongue is barely thicker that the width of it.

He pats Kylo’s hip and lets go so he can wrap one hand around the lower half of his cock. “Be good.”

“Nngh,” Kylo manages. His eyes are wide and dark and he’s watching Poe with flattering intensity. Poe works him until his thighs are trembling and his noises reach an untenable pitch. He presses the heel of his hand against his crotch, groaning around Kylo’s cock. He pulls off with a wet noise and looks up at Kylo.

“The noise is hot, trust me, but you might want to tone it down,” he says. Kylo bites his lips.

“I can’t,” he mutters, looking away.

“You can’t?”

“I’ve tried.”

Poe stands up. “Well, as much as I wanted to snowball you tonight I feel like keeping the volume down is a priority.” He jacks Kylo’s cock slowly and watches his face.

“Snowballing? Really?” Uncertainty wars briefly with ‘fuck it, I’m getting laid’. Poe grins.

“Kidding,” he says. He leans in. “What I really wanted was to get fucked, but that’s a level of classless even I won’t stoop to.”

Kylo sucks in a breath. Poe pulls out his cock and wraps his hand around both of them — and then Kylo’s hand grips his, and oh, fuck, the advantage of big hands. He makes a noise and thrusts up involuntarily. “Here,” he says, clapping a hand over Kylo’s mouth. The sound that comes out of him when Poe crowds them closer together is still loud and high-pitched but at least it’s not quite a whine. “God, you’re so _big_.”

It takes him an embarrassingly short time, and he buries his face in Kylo’s shoulder and pants through it, shuddering at the feeling of Kylo’s big hand around him and his shaft hot and slick against him, slicker now with his come. Kylo keeps going, slow and tight, until he lets out a loud “Ah!” and spurts over Poe’s cock. Poe barely gets his hand down to catch his come.

He grabs some toilet paper and wipes them both off hastily while Kylo closes his eyes and catches his breath. He’s about to open his mouth to make a glib comment when the door slams open and both of them jump, Poe’s heart leaping in his chest. Kylo tucks himself away quickly. The guy goes into the stall at the end of the row, thank god. Poe runs his clean hand through his hair briefly and opens the door, saunters over to wash his hands like he does this every day.

Kylo follows him less assuredly. He looks flushed and uncertain in the mirror. He jerks his thumb out toward the main room and Poe nods.

When he gets back out Kylo has finished his beer and is tapping something into his phone. “I called a cab,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna — “

“Yeah, I should head home too.” Truthfully, Poe knows better than to hope for anything more. But there’s no shame in enjoying the afterglow, he thinks, although he doesn’t doubt it’s obvious what they’ve been up to. Luckily he hasn’t got a lot of shame left. He stands after Kylo and follows him outside to the curb. “That was fun,” he says. “Do it again some time?”

“Probably not.” Kylo won’t meet his eyes. “Sorry. I just don’t really do — that. Casual sex.”

“In public? Me neither,” Poe quips.

“At all.”

Poe shrugs. “Alright.” He claps Kylo on the back. “Hey, I had a good time. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone that doesn’t involve soccer, or the hell that is my final year.”

“Yeah,” Kylo mumbles. “I had a good time too.”

A flush spreads across his cheeks and Poe resists the urge to kiss him. Probably not a great idea, all things considered. But he’s cute, even when he doesn’t say anything else, even when he ducks into his cab with a dumb little wave and leaves Poe shivering on the sidewalk.

Poe calls his own cab and sleeps all the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is full of reasons i shouldn't be allowed to post WIPs. whoops

Poe doesn’t think about the party much after that. He’s a busy man — the combined forces of team practice and first term papers are not to be trifled with — and their first game against the Stormtroopers isn’t for another couple of weeks, so it’s not like he’s going to see Kylo anytime soon. Besides, even his ego gets a little bruised at being summarily shot down right after having sex with a guy. He wasn’t kidding about being sick of the club scene for exactly that reason. He keeps his nose to the grindstone and focuses on whipping their team into shape now that the team picks are official, and fills his own free time by going to the gym.

“So how was Rey’s couch?” he asks Finn over lunch one day in an attempt to be supportive.

“Awesome,” Finn breathes, grinning, without even a hint of shame. “Her bed was even better. Her house is huge! Like, literally a mansion. She has a _maid service_.”

Poe raises an eyebrow at him. “Dude, really?”

“Yeah! I’m not making this shit up, I swear. She’s loaded.” Finn looks starstruck. “But she still works and goes to school. If I suddenly inherited a bunch of money I’d be out of here in a heartbeat.”

Poe snorts. “Yeah, wouldn’t we all?”

It’s been a few days since the party. In spite of everything Poe _likes_ hanging out with Finn, so he finds himself texting him between classes and catching lunch with him around the campus. Today they’re stuffed into a tiny booth in the campus cafeteria with their bags and Poe’s heap of books. Finn’s mainlining fries while Poe tries to ignore how cute it is that he keeps stealing off Poe’s plate — it’s like some new and creative form of masochism. He drinks his coke and tries to think about drills instead.

“Hey,” Finn says suddenly, pausing with a fry in hand. “Didn’t I see you leave the party on Friday with some guy from the Stormtroopers? What was that all about?”

Poe makes a face. “Nothing, really. We ditched the party and went to a pub for a decent beer. It was getting a little rowdy in the basement.”

“Rowdy? What are you, too old to have fun?” Finn prods him. His expression turns serious. “For real, though, I know that guy. He’s not a nice person — he’s got issues. I heard he beat someone up during a game when he was still with the Republic Senators.”

“You looking out for me?” Poe jokes. He ignores the automatic instinct to defend Kylo. Poe barely knows the guy — maybe he _is_ a loose cannon. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to worry. He has a boyfriend. We’re not going steady.” He winks. “We just had a little fun.”

“At the pub?” Finn’s eyes widen. “Is ‘went for a beer’ some kind of gay slang now?” He looks more scandalized than disapproving, though, which, thank god. Because Poe is not up for being judged over his less than great choices while drunk.

“Were you or were you not getting past second base in the middle of the rec room that night?” Poe points out. “At least we had a door between us and the rest of the world. Also, _gay slang_ is possibly the least cool thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Finn’s face darkens with embarrassment. “Just because I also like guys doesn’t mean I’m down with the lingo or whatever. I didn’t even go to GSA meetings in high school!”

“There’s no secret language.” Poe rolls his eyes. “Which you would know if you had ever agreed to go clubbing with me. But now it’s too late, because I’m too old to have fun.”

“Oh my god!” Finn steals his whole plate. “I’m eating your fries, go to class.”

 

Of course, as soon as Poe’s written off his dubious one night stand the world decides to shake things up a little, because the very next morning he rushes out the door, late for the bus, and runs headfirst into Kylo Ren’s chest.

“Hey,” the person above him rumbles.

“Shit, sorry, my coffee — “ Poe stumbles back, holding his mug wide of the person whose shoes he’s just spilled hot coffee all over. Dark shoes, dark jeans, a turtleneck…? “Kylo? What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” Kylo jerks his chin at the door down the hall from Poe’s.

“You live next door to me?” Poe asks dumbly, staring at him. He’s been in this building for two years and he could have sworn his neighbour was a tall, blonde grad student with neck tattoos.

“Uh, I guess so. I’m just gonna go — “ Kylo gestures at his shoes.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, sorry.”

He ducks back into his apartment, leaving Poe flabbergasted in the hallway. Poe takes a moment to wonder whether this is some kind of karmic retribution for all those times he turned down second dates with the guys he picked up in his early days.

 

The next time he sees Kylo it’s Wednesday and Poe holds the elevator door for him. They exchange an awkward nod. “How’s it going?” Poe inquires, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

“Fine.” Kylo stares at the elevator doors. He looks stiff and uncomfortable, and Poe is starting to wonder if that’s just how he is when he’s not drunk.

“Alright,” he says cheerfully when he reaches his door. “Catch you later.”

 

The second time Poe’s outside on his balcony, trying to work up a buzz. He rests his chin on his arms and stares absently at the building across the way, its rickety old fire escape covered with pigeon shit, and all the tiny frosted bathroom windows set into the dirty brick. He’s drifting a bit, his legs aching from practice, his mind jumping from one play to another, when the screen door on the balcony next to his slides open and someone says, “Oh.”

Poe tilts his head so he can look without moving his chin. Kylo’s balcony has a mildewy deck chair in one corner and a houseplant on the railing with an ashtray next to it. It’s in a similar state of disrepair as his; rarely used, even more rarely cleaned.

“Hey,” he says, his voice coming out rough and low. He takes a drag on his joint. It’s pretty good, even though he’s never been a big fan of getting high alone. Snap is busy, though, and Poe really needs some forcible relaxation today.

“Hi.” Kylo’s eyes dart back to the door like he’s trying to figure out if he should make an escape.

“Rough day?” Poe nods at the cigarette between his fingers.

“Uh.” He seems to make up his mind, leaning his hip against the wooden railing. “Yeah. We had a game. Didn’t do so well.”

“I heard.” Poe wouldn’t be much of a captain if he didn’t keep up with their competition. The Stormtroopers had lost one to two to the Senators that afternoon, but the game had been close. He shrugs, feeling philosophical. “Can’t win ‘em all.”

“Sure.” Kylo snorts, lighting his cigarette. “You say that now.”

They _have_ been on a winning streak since the beginning of the season, and Poe is feeling pretty good about it — they’re tearing up the field and Rey is killing it like he knew she would. He’s sure when their streak breaks — or _if_ , he thinks, tapping his knuckles lazily on the railing to ward off bad luck — he’ll be singing a different tune.

“You want a sympathy beer?” He hadn’t been planning to drink but Kylo looks like he could use one.

Kylo shakes his head. “The team’s going out later.”

Poe hums. “Well, make good choices. Don’t accept any sad team shots.”

“I’ve been in soccer since I was twelve.” Kylo rolls his eyes. “I knew not to do team shots before I graduated high school.”

“Alright, alright,” Poe says, lifting his hands. “Hey, when did you move in there? I didn’t even know the blonde chick had moved out.”

“She didn’t,” Kylo says, an unhappy wrinkle appearing on his forehead. “And don’t let her hear you call her that. Phasma’s letting me stay with her while I find a place.”

“That’s Phasma? The one your boyfriend is hung up on?”

“Yeah.” Kylo’s tone is defensive and he crosses his arms on the railing as Poe inhales and considers this.

“Why are you staying here? This place is a dump.” He gestures to the alley and the garbage bins below. “With a shitty view.”

He shrugs. “She offered. Hux and I aren’t getting along right now.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Poe tries not to feel optimistic at that. It’s probably rude to hope you can poach someone else’s boyfriend out from under their unappreciative nose.

“I guess. I thought moving in together would fix things, but… everything just seems worse.” He stares blankly at the building across the way, cigarette dangling from his fingers. “It’s been two years. The things that were fine before just really fucking annoy me now. He’s such a control freak. He wants everything to be perfect and he just gets so angry if something goes wrong. I get that his program is tough but I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Poe makes a face. His relationship experience includes a couple of friends-with-benefits things that lasted a few months each, and one time when he was exclusively fucking someone and they actually had a conversation about it. It was okay until the guy brought up visiting each others’ families over the holiday break and Poe realized he didn’t even like him enough to tell him that he didn’t _have_ any family, that he’d be spending the break with Snap if anything, and he sure as hell didn’t want to play happy couple with a fuckbuddy in front of his parents. It took Poe another month to break it off because the sex was so great.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” he says. “So what’s the upside? Awesome make-up sex?”

Poe watches with fascination as Kylo flushes from his bare collarbone to the tips of his ears. “It’s pretty good.”

God, he has nice collarbones. Poe wants to bite them.

Before he can embarrass himself by asking about Kylo’s sex life, his phone buzzes. It’s Finn, asking if Poe wants to hit up the diner with him and Rey, which — on one hand, Poe is starving, but on the other hand the two of them have reached new levels of telepathic communication and are constantly giggling at each other. “Hang on,” he says to Kylo, texting back.

_Your treat?_

“I should get going.” Kylo stubs out his cigarette and runs a hand through his thick, dark hair.

_Fine, cheapskate,_ Finn replies. _Double date. Should I kiss you goodnight too?_

_Threesome?_ Poe texts. He tucks his phone back into his pocket and pinches out the end of his joint. “Sorry,” he says. “I guess I should, too.”

“Thanks,” Kylo says awkwardly. “For listening.”

“No problem.” Poe smiles, an unexpected warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. He feels a little better, and it’s not just the buzz talking. “We should do this again sometime. Or do you not do conversations, either?”

“Shut up,” Kylo mumbles, and it’s worrisome that Poe finds that hopelessly endearing. “I do.”

Later Poe checks his phone as he pulls on his jacket and Finn has sent him a smug-looking emoji. _If you have the balls to ask Rey I’ll buy you a drink, too._

 

The third time Poe sees Kylo it’s Sunday. He’s been holed up in his apartment writing a paper all morning when he hears raised voices from next door. He turns the TV up and tries to ignore it at first, then there’s a lull and Poe gets back into the flow of his argument — but the yelling starts up again pretty quick, and louder. He can’t make out who’s saying what but there’s a lot of swearing and name-calling. Poe frowns at his screen. He likes to think of himself as a pretty easygoing guy, but he’s tempted to go over there and pound on the door. Why couldn’t they have had it out at the boyfriend’s place?

Twenty minutes later he hasn’t made any headway and he’s started half-heartedly watching Master Chef instead. They’re not shouting at each other anymore, but neither have they stopped fighting. Finally Poe closes his laptop and stands up. _To hell with it_ , he thinks. He’ll just go down the street to Starbucks. The music is shitty, but at least the only screaming _there_ is from the milk steamers.

He’s just locking up when Kylo slams open the door to 249 open and shuts it behind him with equal force, scowling fiercely. He stalks right by Poe without even acknowledging him.

Poe stares after him for a second. It almost looks like he’s been crying, but — no way. “Hey!” he says, shoving the keys in his pocket and hurrying after him. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” Kylo snaps.

Poe slows. “Jesus, okay,” he growls, his temper flashing.

Halfway down the hall Kylo stops and turns back to him. “Fuck,” he says emphatically, and Poe is about to retort when he follows it up with, “Sorry. No, I’m not okay. I just — “

He scrubs at his face with one hand. Poe comes forward and puts one hand on his elbow and he practically leans into it.

“Come on,” Poe says, directing him to the stairwell.

They end up on the back steps outside the emergency exit. Poe props the door open with a brick while Kylo sits on the step, forehead pressed into his palms. He shuts his eyes. He’s wearing a thin t-shirt, jeans and socks; goosebumps run up and down his arms in the

Poe sits down next to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Kylo snorts.

“Okay,” Poe says, turning away. “Maybe you should, though.”

“Yeah.” Kylo lets out a rough breath.

He moves his palms down to cover his eyes. His breathing doesn’t change, he doesn’t make any kind of noise, but when Poe glances over he can see tears leaking out from under his hands and a tremble in his jaw.

Poe reaches out, and then hesitates. It’s not his place to comfort Kylo, especially not when he has less than altruistic motives. On the other hand Kylo looks pretty pathetic, shoulders shaking minutely as he tries to contain himself, and a little sympathy probably wouldn’t go amiss.

He settles for patting Kylo’s shoulder awkwardly. Kylo makes a muffled noise into his hands and it takes a moment for Poe to identify it as laughter. He wipes his eyes roughly and bites his lip as he giggles. “You’re really shit at this.”

“Well, I haven’t had much practice,” Poe says defensively. “I don’t know a lot of people whose relationships make them miserable.” Strictly speaking most of his friends are actually single, like him, but that’s all semantics.

Kylo shakes his head. “It’s fine, it’s just — “ he thumbs at his eyes, wiping away residual tears. “Nobody goes into a relationship expecting it to get to this point, right? I mean, we used to argue, yeah. When I was still at the Republic he kept telling me to switch programs because he thought I’d do better in pre-law, like him. But I _liked_ bio-med, and I was _good_ at it, it was just… everyone else in the program. I can’t — “ he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t understand people. And most people don’t even like me. But pre-law isn’t any better and he doesn’t get why. It’s easy for him because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else in his grad program, and he’s perfect at everything.”

He exhales shakily. Poe looks over at him. His eyes are red and a little puffy and he looks gorgeous like this, raw and vulnerable, and Poe wonders what that says about him.

“At least I used to have soccer,” Kylo mutters. “Now he’s my captain and I can’t even get away from his nitpicking on the field.”

Poe bites his lip. “Is that why you’re still with him?”

“I guess.” Kylo makes a derisive noise. “I can’t even think about leaving the team without having a fucking panic attack. It took me a month to tell him I was moving out. I had to get Phasma to pick up my stuff from his house.”

“That’s a shitty reason to stay together,” Poe says. “You know you could always join a community league if you didn’t stay with the Stormtroopers — or even try out for pro. You’re probably in the top ten percent out there. Better than Hux, for damn sure.”

Kylo gives him an indecipherable look. “If I quit the team I lose my scholarship.”

“Obviously college isn’t working out so well for you,” Poe points out. “There’s nothing wrong with trying something different.”

Kylo shakes his head and doesn’t reply. They sit in silence, a cool breeze playfully ruffling Poe’s hair and sneaking under his jacket. He’s just starting to get chilled when Kylo unfolds himself and stands up.

“I’ve gotta get back,” he says.

Poe nods. “Hey, for what it’s worth,” he says, “ _I_ like you.”

“Hah.” Kylo runs a hand through his hair and his fair cheeks redden. “You’ve got low standards.”

 

After that it’s like Kylo disappears. Poe would suspect he’s being avoided if he himself wasn’t so damned busy that it’s perfectly plausible they just keep missing each other. It’s not like he’s _trying_ to catch Kylo in the hall when Poe knows he’s coming home from class. He sees Phasma every once in a while, but she only ever gives him the stink-eye and then ignores him if he waves.

Autumn turns slowly colder, the games getting muddy and the rain sharp and stinging when Poe jogs to the bus stop in the mornings. They break their winning streak three weeks into the season to the Stormtroopers, and it’s a hard, brutal game. They lose three-nil. It’s not like they aren’t playing well — individually, he can’t pinpoint anything that’s keeping them back. But their passes don’t connect and they miss openings, and Poe comes out of the game exhausted like he hasn’t been for weeks. The mood in the locker room is subdued as they strip down. Poe raises his head when Rey comes to stand in the doorway, her expression flat.

He stands up. “Okay,” he says. “I know losing sucks. The first loss of the season always hits us like we didn’t see it coming. I know we messed up some plays, had a couple gaps in our defence today.”

“And let those assholes get one over us because of it,” Snap grumbles, scowling at his feet.

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, “handing a game over to the Stormtroopers adds insult to injury. But we can tighten up and close those gaps. Tomorrow we get out there and practice our asses off, and when we come back to this field we’re gonna win. We’re gonna play _our_ game, like we’ve been doing all season.”

He looks around. There’s a general rumble of approval — they expect a pep talk from him, even if the game sucked. But the first loss and the way they handle it can set the tone for the whole season. If they can’t shake it off they won’t do well against a strong team like the Senators, and two losses in a row can easily become the dead weight that grinds them into the mud. They lost a lot of good players the year before and Poe wants to see them find their feet before the mid-term dead zone kicks in and everyone gets bogged down by classwork.

“Today, though,” he continues, “we are going to go out for burgers and forget about the game for twelve hours. And nobody had better try to ask me about swapping positions, I know how much you love to do that after we lose.” He waves his finger around.

“What if I buy you a drink first?” Nien asks with a grin.

Snap elbows him in the ribs. “Better buy me one too, cause I’m the one who has to place you every time you want to switch.”

“What can I say?” Nien shrugs, palms up. “I like a little variety.”

Poe casts an eye toward the door. Rey gives him a short nod and he returns it with a small smile. He’s been worried about her burning out — she pushes herself hard. At least Finn’s good for her in that way. He’s got the drive to win, but it’s tempered by his easygoing nature. And for him it’s just a game; for Rey, he thinks it’s maybe more than that.

 

After burgers they go to the house Snap shares with a few of the other guys and Poe isn’t exactly drowning his sorrows this time, but a loss is always an excuse to drink until you forget all the passes you fucked up. He teaches Rey how to play poker, which she takes to like a duck to water, and he ignores his own advice and allows himself to be talked into doing shots. Poe is impressed by how much Rey can drink until she tries to stand up and promptly claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide.

“I’d better get this,” Finn says, ushering her upstairs.

“Whoops,” says Poe succinctly. Snap rolls his eyes and pours another round.

“You broke the kid,” he says. “Good job. Weren’t we supposed to have practice tomorrow?”

“Probably,” Poe agrees. Their head coach scheduled in a Saturday practice the week before, but Poe’s memory is currently a little fuzzy. “I’m going to hate myself in the morning, aren’t I?”

“More like you’ll hate Jess.” Snap hands him the shot glass. “Bottoms up. And go put on something that isn’t shitty German dance music, will you?”

“German dance music is great,” Poe grumbles. Snap has a trajectory when he drinks — loud and excitable until he’s a couple hours in, then he turns sarcastic. By that point Poe has usually reached his own downturn and this only makes him irritable, so now he’s drunk _and_ annoyed.

It’s the ideal time to call it a night, but it still takes him one more drink to do it because whenever he thinks about going home to his tiny, cluttered apartment and sleeping it off he feels a little sick to his stomach. Finally Snap pushes him out the door and puts him in a taxi.

“You can’t sleep here,” he says. “My roommates are sick of seeing your face in the morning.”

“I’m really feeling the love,” Poe says, and Snap ruffles his hair.

“Also, I don’t want to deal with sad drunk Poe all night,” he says. “You need to get laid, my friend.”

“I _tried,_ ” Poe whines. “But he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“By someone who’s _not_ emotionally unavailable, I should clarify.” Snap hands him a water bottle. “Drink that on the way home.”

“Thanks,” Poe mumbles.

 

It isn’t until he’s at the door that he realizes his keys and his phone are in his jacket, which is still at Snap’s.

“Great.” He stares at his door. Then he looks at 249, and an idea occurs to him. If he was sober it would probably be a terrible idea, he thinks. On the other hand it’s this or sleep in the rec room, and the last time he did that someone complained to the building manager.

Nobody answers on the first knock. He knocks again and hopes it won’t be Phasma on the other side. It could easily be that Kylo is out with _his_ team celebrating their win.

On the third try Kylo opens the door before he can finish knocking.

“What?” He’s scowling. Poe stares at him, taken aback by how appealing he looks in casual grey sweatpants and a Stormtroopers sweater, his hair rumpled and his collar askew. “What is it?”

Poe shakes his head. He’s gotta get it together. “Neighbour,” he says in greeting, slouching against Kylo’s door frame. “Buddy. Can I borrow your porch?”

“Seriously?” Kylo looks him up and down. It’s such a turnaround from the last time Poe saw him, he’s almost hurt. Okay, maybe he _is_ a little hurt. He’d hoped they might develop a cordial relationship, at least.

“I forgot my keys,” he says. Kylo steps back. His face is a little flushed, like he’s been working out — or jerking off, his mind supplies.

“And?”

“And I need to break into my house,” Poe offers, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He bites his lip, feeling surprisingly out of his depth. He really thought Kylo would get _less_ awkward and rude after they had a couple heart-to-hearts, but maybe that’s not how the guy works.

Kylo huffs. “Fine. I have to see this,” he says, opening the door all the way.

The foldout couch is made up, covers rumpled, and there’s an open suitcase next to it with clothes spilling out onto the carpet. It’s surprisingly intimate, like Poe’s walking through his bedroom, and it gives him a little thrill. “Nice place,” he says.

“It’s exactly the same as your place,” Kylo says. Poe smirks at him in response and he rolls his eyes. “Cute.”

“I try.” Poe puts his shoes back on to go out on the porch. Kylo pulls his hood up and watches him with scepticism.

“Please don’t kill yourself,” he says.

“No guarantees.” Poe gauges the distance between the two porches. He can probably stretch across the gap — it’s not that big. He pulls himself up onto the railing and swings his legs overtop so that he’s sitting with his back to Kylo. It’s kind of nice, actually. The chill takes the queasy edge off his buzz and it’s a bit of a thrill to dangle his feet over the edge two stories up.

He maneuvers himself around so that his feet are on the outside of the railing as he holds on to the top. Kylo grips his own forearms and watches, the corners of his mouth curled down.

“I want to tell you I’ve done this tons of times and it’s perfectly safe, but that would be a lie,” Poe says. “I’m a little nervous. You look nervous, too. That’s not helping.”

“Shut up and pay attention to what you’re doing,” Kylo says tightly.

Poe frowns and looks down at his feet. He turns around carefully and puts his arm out. He can just barely touch the other railing. He braces himself and stretches across the gap one foot at a time. There’s a tense moment when he pulls himself over the railing and almost loses his balance, and Kylo sucks in a breath as he rights himself.

Poe turns around and lifts his hands. “See? Easy.”

“It’s clear that you don’t appreciate how traumatizing it would have been to scrape you off the pavement,” Kylo says, and Poe grins at him.

“Aw, you do care. Hey, want to come over and play Mario Kart?” It’s late, but Poe has a feeling he’s headed for a night of reruns and regretting his life choices — he needs to stop letting Snap ply him with cheap whiskey.

“You should probably sleep this off,” Kylo says. “You’re drunk and it’s almost midnight.”

Poe leans on the railing and aims a flirtatious look at Kylo, turning up the wattage on his smile. “So is that a no, big boy?”

Kylo hesitates. “I didn’t say that.” He looks tense, and Poe keeps focusing in on the firm set of his shoulders under his hoodie, the softness of his mouth that’s gone pinched and uncertain, feeling fixated. Kylo moves toward the porch door and his stomach tightens, until he says, “I’ll use the front door like a civilized person, though.”

Poe’s a little ashamed of how relieved he is.

 

He opens the door a minute later and Kylo crowds into him almost immediately. Poe’s gut clenches for an entirely different reason and he catches his breath, looking up.

“Mario Kart? Really?” Kylo says. His eyes are bright and the line of his mouth is sharper now. “That’s not much of a pickup line.”

“I wasn’t — “ Poe begins, but Kylo has a firm hand on his shoulder and is using the other hand to close the door behind him. He falls speechless as Kylo pushes him up against the wall in his entrance hall and kisses him.

_That went better than expected_ , Poe’s brain supplies.

Kylo is obviously the kind of guy who loves kissing, who could probably do it for hours. He goes lush and open with an intensity that has Poe a little weak in the knees, licks into Poe’s mouth and sucks on his tongue and bites at his lower lip, cradles his jaw with one big hand. Poe is a little starstruck for a minute before he remembers that he has hands too, and he should use them. He wraps one hand around the back of Kylo’s neck, burying it in his thick, dark hair, and inches his fingers up under the hem of Kylo’s hoodie where his skin is warm and firm, digging into the muscles of his back.

Kylo breaks away to pant into his neck, thumb rubbing Poe’s cheekbone. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he breathes, “waving your ass around out there.”

Poe takes stock of the way Kylo is plastered against him, how he’s already chubbing up in his sweatpants, the insistent press of his half-hard cock suggesting he’s not wearing anything underneath. “You _were_ jerking off,” he says. And then; “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Phasma told me about you,” says Kylo, ignoring him. Poe doesn’t know what to make of the way he can go from shy and awkward to _this_ , the way he has Poe pinned with the weight of his body and is slowly working his hips in a dirty grind that’s got Poe shuddering. “All the guys you bring home.”

“You asked her about me,” Poe says breathlessly, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Kylo’s sweats.

“Do you let all those guys use you?” Kylo goes on, pressing a sloppy kiss to his jaw.

It’s not a one-night-stand kiss. It’s a lover’s kiss, and it reminds Poe abruptly that Kylo already _has_ a lover, albeit one who seems to treat him like crap. Kylo probably doesn’t know the strange contrast between the intimacy of sex and the knowledge that the person you’re doing it with is a total stranger who you’ll never see again. Hell, he probably waited until the third date to put out. It’s a weird feeling, and Poe tries to push it down. He wants this, doesn’t want to think about whether or not he should have it.

“Pretty sure it’s mutual,” he says in response. “I use them, too.”

Kylo bites his neck just under his jaw, jerks his hips forward, and Poe gasps. “You’re kind of a slut, aren’t you?”

“It comes in handy,” he manages to say as Kylo nibbles at his ear. They shouldn’t do this in the hallway, Poe thinks distantly as Kylo yanks his jacket off and drops it on the floor. He’s obviously not afraid to manhandle Poe and Poe is surprisingly into it. “If I say yes, are you gonna fuck me?”

Kylo inhales sharply and his hands still. “Jesus,” he says, his voice rough in Poe’s ear. “You really want that?”

Poe grabs his ass with one hand and pulls him in closer, the friction making him hot and a little bit desperate. Words spill out of him unbidden. “I think about your cock when I jerk off sometimes,” he mumbles. “Think about it filling me up.”

Kylo pulls away abruptly. His eyes are dark and wide and his grip on Poe’s shoulder is almost painful. “Bedroom. Now.”

 

He hadn’t been lying, he does jerk off thinking about getting fucked by Kylo. He’s fantasized about his hands and his sullen mouth and the way he’d probably be selfish during sex, because sometimes Poe likes that, and he’s not disappointed. The prep Kylo gives him is cursory, two fingers and too much lube, the stretch and pull of his knuckles at the rim of Poe’s ass better than his imagination ever could be.

They’re both naked and Poe is face down into a pillow, his ass up in the air. He feels more vulnerable than he ever would in his fantasies and it makes him shiver as Kylo withdraws his fingers, leaving him open and empty. He doesn’t do this often — getting fucked isn’t his favourite thing about sex, for sure. He usually likes to be doing the fucking. But the idea has kind of stuck in his head since the party — since he felt the girth and heaviness of Kylo’s cock and wondered how it would feel to take it.

Kylo lines up and slides in before Poe can really brace himself. He lets out a shaky breath as Kylo sinks into him, and it turns into a moan when he keeps going and _going_. He’s bigger than anyone Poe has been with before. It leaves his knees trembling. He grips the pillow in his fists and grits his teeth.

“Okay?” Kylo asks breathlessly when he bottoms out, braced over Poe with one hand on the bed frame.

“Yeah, god,” Poe groans, pushing back. “Perfect.”

Kylo makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat and his hand comes up to grip the hairs on the back of Poe’s neck while he fucks him, slowly at first, and faster when Poe only moans and arches his back into it. God, it is too much. He’s not going to come from this, it’s too intense. But it’s perfect and when he matches Kylo’s rhythm his hand tightens in Poe’s hair and his noises become strangled, and he falters.

“You’re so — “ he mutters into Poe’s ear. “I can’t believe you want it like this. Fuck, you’re tight.”

Poe gasps out a laugh. “You’re kind of big, babe.”

Kylo lets go of his hair and holds himself up with both arms, and Poe drops his head as his thrusts become rough and erratic. “I’m gonna come,” he says. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on.” Poe drives back onto his cock and clenches, shuddering at how good it feels, and Kylo stiffens and comes inside him. Poe keeps riding him slowly, milking him until he pulls out with a low noise.

Poe collapses onto the bed and rolls over, one hand lazily stroking his erection. He likes coming from being fucked but it’s always less urgent if he doesn’t, like he could take it or leave it. He pushes the hair out of his eyes and watches Kylo pull the condom off and tie it. He curls over Poe and drops it into the trash and then seems to realize their proximity and their eyes catch. Kylo inexplicably flushes deeper and he looks away.

He shimmies down the bed and puts his hand over Poe’s at the base of his cock, his lips barely brushing the head, and oh _yeah_ , Poe is all about this. His plush lips wrap around Poe’s cock and he sucks Poe off with an efficiency that has him groaning and bucking up into Kylo’s grip faster than he thought he would. When he comes Kylo doesn’t pull off, and afterward he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and sucks it clean. Poe groans and reaches up to grip Kylo’s jaw.

“Come here.” He pulls him down for a slow, languid kiss, cupping the back of his head.

“I should go,” Kylo says.

“Is that all you know how to say?” Poe sighs and stretches. He feels good, sleepy and loose-limbed. “If you want to go, go. You can stay, though. I don’t mind.”

Kylo’s sitting upright, his legs off the bed, half twisted toward Poe. “Phasma will find out,” he mumbles, picking at the sheets.

Poe nods. He doesn’t feel like pushing this right now; he kind of wants to pull the blankets up and sleep, whether Kylo stays or not. He’ll think about how royally fucked he is in the morning. “Okay,” he says.

Kylo hesitates, and Poe watches him through half-open eyes. He leans in and kisses Poe, one hand too tight on his shoulder, his eyes closed. It’s nice, intimate. Poe sighs when they come apart.

“Hey,” he says. “I really was inviting you over to play Mario Kart. Just for the record.”

Kylo stands up and looks around for his clothes, mostly tossed over the dresser. The tips of his ears are red from Poe’s vantage point. “I’m going now,” he says firmly.

 


End file.
